[The following document comes
from Allen Sullivant, a descendent of an Elmira prisoner. Mr. Sullivant has
built and maintained a web page that focuses on the 44th Tennessee Infantry.]

This article is reproduced
from the July, 1878 issue of the journal "Annals of the Army of
Tennessee." Dr. Edwin L. Drake, the editor of the publication, and a
former Lt. Colonel in the Confederate Army wrote the comments in italics
below.

[The
following brief sketch of prison life at Elmira, New York, by Sergeant
Porter, adds another bit of information to the already voluminous record of the
treatment of Confederate prisoners. In contrasts with the conduct of Colt,
Beale and the hog-backed Scotchman, it affords us real pleasure to record in
these pages the kindness and gentlemanly demeanor of Lieutenant Groves, the
cashier of the prison bank. We have been informed that on several occasions
this officer sought out privately the prisoners abut to leave on parole, and
restored them the balance of their memory, of which he was the custodian, but
which he had been commenced to withhold, being unwilling to stain his
conscience by perpetrating a wrong action, of which technically he himself
was guiltless. We know Sergeant Porter, and give full credence to his
statement in regard to the ration of food and fuel, which was the daily
allowance at Elmira. He was one of the bravest of the brave, and it was his
aim that set on fire a Federal gunboat at Swift Creek, in the attack on Fort
Clifton, below Richmond, Va., for the heroic defense of which Lieutenant F.M.
Kelso and his little band of Tennesseeans received the thanks of General
Beauregard, in a general order. With justifiable pride we may add than these
men were of General Bushrod Johnson's Division, which belonged to the Army of
Tennessee, but, by good fortune, reached the front of Petersburg in time to
join lines with their brethren of the East, and bottle Butler at Bermuda
Hundreds.]

ELMIRA
is one of the oldest cities in the State of New York. It is situated on the
Chemung River, in a beautiful valley, surrounded by an almost endless range
of peaks and mountains, from which most of the timber has been cleared,
leaving a landscape dotted with farmhouses, fields of buckwheat and other
grain. It was here, in 1776, the Battle of Chemung was fought, between
General Sullivan and the celebrated Iroquois Chief, Thayendanega. He was a
half-breed, educated in Connecticut, and as commissioned a colonel in 1775,
by the English Crown. The whites infamously knew him as Joseph Brandt. His
cruelties were enacted in the heat of battle, and instigated by the wrongs
his people had suffered at the hands of the whites.

Cruelty
and cowardice often go hand in hand, but Brandt was brave, and his cruelty to
his enemy was only a religious duty, naturalized in the savage character
through the custom of many ages. His on motto was, doubtless, "war is
cruelty," and not open to the amenities which humanity would seek to
interpose against its horrors. When I think of Elmira in connection with its
historical associations, I am tempted to institute a comparison between
Joseph Brandt, the savage, and some of the commandants of her prison-house in
1864, with its thousands of ragged, sick, and starved tenants. Brandt was an
Indian, tutored from his cradle to deeds of cruelty -- these, the
representatives of a civilization, which boasts of having reached its highest
type in this, the nineteenth century of the Christian Era. But this might be
called the ravings of hate, and the Democratic Congressman from that District
might rise and call me a liar, and affirm that there was no lack of food,
duel and clothing among the Confederate prisoners at Elmira. But on to our
narrative.

The
writer, with about five hundred other prisoners of war, arrived at Elmira
about the first of August, 1864, after a confinement of forty-five days at
Point Lookout. I spent the first day in a thorough examination of my new
abode, and its advantages as a home until fortune would release me from its
durance. It contained several acres of ground, enclosed by a plank fence
about fourteen feet high; some three feet from the top on the outside ran a
narrow footway, or parapet, of plank, supported by braces. On this the
sentinels walked day and night, being enabled from this height to command a
view of the entire prison. On the inside, large globe lamps were ranged at regular
intervals, which were lighted shortly after sunset and extinguished after
fair daylight, thus rendering it impossible, even in the darkest night, for
anyone to approach without being discovered. Near the center of the
enclosure, and on the north side, was the main entrance, by large folding
doors. East of this point, on the outside about fifty yards from the
enclosure, was a large observatory, upon which hundreds would crowd daily to
get a view of the prisoners-many to gloat, perhaps, on their sufferings; some
to gaze in wonder and awe upon the ragged, bobtailed crew who had on many
fields conquered their best armies; and some, no doubt, to sigh for an
exchange of these men for fathers, sons and brothers who were suffering
kindred miseries at Libby, Salisbury and Andersonville. A single tree-a
walnut-stood opposite the observatory, and its shade was particularly
grateful during the month of August.

The
south, or rear, line of the enclosure stood on the bank of the Chemung.
Through the center ran a deep channel, cut by the river at high tide, the
upper and lower ends of which were dry part of the year; the middle always
contained water to the depth of two feet or more. During, the hot months, the
prisoners suffered greatly from heat at night, owing to their crowding in
tents. In October, materials and tools were furnished, and wooden barracks
were built. During our tent life, two blankets were furnished to six men; one
stick of green pine or hemlock, from four to six feet long and rarely over
six inches in diameter, was the daily allowance of fuel for six men; no tools
were allowed to cut and split it. J. W. Daniel was woodchopper for our mess,
patiently hacking the wood in two with an old case knife, and splitting it
with the aid of a railroad spike and a rock. The routine of roll call was
most exactingly carried out in spite of bad weather, no one being allowed to
break ranks under the most urgent circumstances until the signal was given.
Owing to the diet, crowding and other unwholesome surroundings, bowel
complaints were exceedingly common and severe, and the requirements of the
disease often subjected the unfortunates to a brutish befouling of clothing
and person while standing in ranks awaiting the leisurely completion of a
simple routine task.

Majors
Colt and Beale were at times not only unkind, but also unjust and oppressive.
Beale, on one occasion, aroused all of the inmates of the prison on a bitter
cold night, and made them stand in line until he ascertained how many had
United States overcoats, and where they got them. He then had the coats
carried to his quarters, where the tails were cut off, and the mutilated
garments restored to their owners. These officers had men tied up by the
thumbs to make them reveal suspicious plots. An instrument of torture called
the "sweat box " will bear describing to the uninitiated. They were
made of stout planks, of different dimensions, so as to gauge the victim's
size. They were secured upright to a post, with a hinged door, and when a
culprit could be squeezed in, so much the better for the violated law. An
aperture for the nose was the only evidence of charity in their construction.
When a prisoner was to be committed, he was marched to successive boxes until
one was found to suit; with his back to the entrance and his arms close to
his side, he was thrust in and the door closed with a push and fastened.

Ward
inspection was held every Sunday morning by a captain or lieutenant. On these
occasions none were excused from attendance The presence of every man had to
be verified; and if any were found in the privies, or on the road therefrom,
they were dragged to the guardhouse, where a mysterious performance added
terror to the situation. The guardhouse had two rooms-the rear one for
prisoners; as the victim entered the door a blanket was dropped over his
head: and he was forced to the floor and robbed of every thing he had. He was
then left half-suffocated, without an opportunity of knowing who did the
deed. Many of the Federal officers were brutes in the human form. One, whose
name I have forgotten, was a fiend. He was a tall, humped-back Scotchman,
nicknamed by the boys "Old HogBack," but he was a hog all over. On
several occasions I have seen him kick sick men off of the walk with his
heavy boots, simply because they were too feeble to get out of his way
quickly enough, or did not care to get out in the mud and water to let him
pass. I hope some reader of the ANNALS may, perchance, remember his name and
report it, so as to impale his memory with the infamy of wanton cruelty to
helpless and defenseless fellow-creatures.

Lieutenant
Groves, the cashier of the prison bank, was, in every respect, a gentleman,
and, for his kindness and humanity, every inmate of the Elmira Prison who
comes in contact with him gratefully remembers his name.

Threats
of retaliation for the Fort Pillow affair were often circulated to induce men
to take the oath. At one time, it was put out that lots were to be drawn for
men to be placed on gunboats under fire of Sumter and other forts. To an
officer who was threatening me with such terrors, I replied: "Put me
down on that list as a volunteer. I would be delighted with the exchange, and
think I can stand any thing your men can." I was determined to brag a
little, just to cut his feathers, and I succeeded.

My
gorge, bile, spleen and phlegm will rise somewhat yet at the recollection of
the quantity and quality of the food doled out at the model humanitarian at
Elmira in the years 1864-5. I have long since gotten over the sense of
soreness begotten of the knocks and hurts incident to honorable warfare; but
Elmira, somehow, when I happen to think of it, will play the deuce with my
patriotism and loyalty to my country in thought, not act, but only at these
times. Ah well! I'd live it down and die content if I was only sure that
"Old Hog-Back " will not be able to cheat the devil out of his own.
Prove me this, and I am "truly loyal." But here's the ration: The
strong sustained life on four ounces of sour light bread and three ounces of
salt beef or pork for breakfast; for dinner, the same amount of bread was
allowed, and, in lieu of the meat, a compound called soup, but in reality
nothing more than hot salty water, in which bags of peas or beans had been
boiled, but which were carefully removed and kept for other uses than to make
animal heat for cold, starving prisoners of war. This saltwater diet will
account for the large number of cases of scurvy and dysentery, which carried
off, so many. A great number of the men were in rags, and but a small
quantity of clothing was issued by the United States Government. Of that
received from home and friends, the amount was restricted, and only
obtainable on a permit approved at headquarters. When the mercury got down to
35 degrees below zero in the winter of 1864-5, I saw numbers of my comrades
with frostbitten hands, feet, ears and faces.

For
the truth of these statements, I am willing to abide by the evidence of
hundreds of living witnesses North and South. Moore, Colt and Beal, of the
prison authorities, could tell a tale if they would. They surely can remember
an order that was to deprive a prison full of half-starved wretches of all
food until they produced a barrel of beans, which had been stolen by their
own underlings. They can recall the fact that only one stove was allowed to each
hundred men, and only half enough fuel for use, while hundreds of wagon-loads
were stacked on the premises. But the graves of dead Southern soldiers at
Elmira tell a tale, before which every utterance of the lip or pen is dumb in
comparison.